My eyes went to him. "Your rule, honey. I can go put panties on." His eyes came to me. "You do, I get the strap.

Wars fought over a face like this,” he murmured like he was talking to himself, my heart stopped beating and his thumbs moved lightly across my cheeks. “A man would work himself into the ground for it, go down to his knees to beg to keep it, endure torture to protect it, take a bullet for it,” his eyes came to mine, “poison his brother to possess a face like this.

And I wake up happy, baby, because I possess beauty and I own that beauty in all the forms it can take and the least important of those are physical.

Bottom of my soul,” he whispered across the room, eyes locked to mine. I sucked in breath through my nose before I whispered back, “Bottom of mine.